


some say in ice

by peppermintquartz



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: But honestly what did you expect from this fandom, Cannibalism, M/M, Post-Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-25
Updated: 2016-10-02
Packaged: 2018-08-17 06:26:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8133671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peppermintquartz/pseuds/peppermintquartz
Summary: The end of the world came suddenly.





	1. Chapter 1

The end of the world came suddenly. Those who survived the first impact did not know that the apocalypse would last for so long.

Will and his dogs were in the kitchen when they first heard the news crackling over the old, beat-up radio that Will’s dad had left behind. Will was preparing tomatoes for a sandwich and accidentally cut his finger.

“Ouch.” He winced at the monotone quality of his voice. It was inappropriate, he felt. People -  a lot of people - had died in the meteor collision. The government predicted an extended winter and told people to stock up on food. Will had not believed them.

Then came news of raiding and looting in the cities, and the complete breakdown of law and order. Will kept his guns loaded, and made sure the dogs listened for intruders.

No one came to his door.

*****

The winter fell on Wolf Trap like an anvil. It didn't bother Will much. His life was isolated on purpose. He lived out in the sticks, far from his neighbors, and had grown his own vegetables and fruit in the past, before Jack called on him for his imagination. Now he hunted or fished. 

A month after the end of the world, Will set his dogs out to hunt for their own meals. He set out dog kibble occasionally, if the night was exceptionally cold. At night, with seven canines sharing his bed, Will had all the warmth he needed. They slept close to the fireplace, and Will used logs sparingly. The dogs learned to stand guard in shifts, with Will taking the darkest hours just before dawn.

Fire, shelter, food, water. They were a pack. They had everything they needed.

*****

Two months after the end of the world, all news stopped. The winter did not.

The days were short and the nights were bitter and long. Will could still fish, but it was getting harder and harder to catch them. He made do with what he could find. He smoked them at home to maximize the use of his fireplace. 

The dogs sometimes dragged part of a carcass home for Will, and he cooked it over the fire, with a pot to catch drops of oil that he made into candles. Just in case. He ate every bit that he could, and the dogs would gnaw on the bones. Sometimes the parts looked a lot like an arm or a leg.

He did not think more about it. Survival was more important.

*****

Six months later, Will and the dogs began hunting together in earnest. Will kept his rifle loaded, but he used his knife more often. The dogs would sniff out prey, chase it out into the open towards the snares Will set, and then Will would break their necks. He gutted them at home where the dogs could eat the innards. 

They raided their elderly neighbors two nights after the electricity got cut off. It wasn't much of a raid; the old couple had died. Froze to death. They had a well-stocked larder, and plenty of ammunition. Will packed everything he could carry, and made four trips in all.

The dogs made a feast out of what old meat Will could thaw out for them from the corpses. He himself ate one of the cans of baked beans. It tasted like manna from heaven.  He wrote down the expiry dates on the tins in permanent marker, and added one month to each one.

The other homes nearby had been abandoned. Will chopped down their walls and furniture to keep for firewood.

****

In the beginning he thought that Jack or Alana might have made it, but neither of them came to Wolf Trap. By now he had to assume that they had died. He wished he felt more grief over the loss. Jack probably stayed with the ailing Bella. Perhaps they had chosen to perish together. Alana... She would have come for him if she could. She had wanted to save him.

Hannibal had been away on a conference that week when the world ended. He would have wanted to save Will too. He had said it before, that Will needed someone to watch over him because he would not watch over his own health.

As it turned out, Will was doing very well all on his own.

*****

The first year was the hardest. If not for the dogs, Will might have given up. But his dogs were with him, and they were a pack together. He helped them take down large prey. They kept him warm and safe.

The second year, there was a brief spring and an even briefer summer. Will hoarded food madly, smoking everything he could and gorging himself and the dogs on what they could not preserve. Some trees had just begun putting out leaves when the frost hit again. At least there had been color in the world, for a little while. Will found himself crayons and drew what he remembered of a gentler time on his walls. 

*****

Three years later, Will met the first other human survivor since the end of the world. The dogs took their positions to his front and flank, all growling and baring their teeth at the stranger with the long, gray-streaked hair and calm demeanor. Despite their bristling, none of them attacked.

“One command from me, and you’re dinner,” Will said. His voice was hoarse. He had to rack his brain for words he had not needed to use for years and his tongue felt rusty around the syllables. “Who are you?”

The stranger smiled. His beard was bloodstained and his teeth were sharp. “It’s good to see you survived, Will. I apologize for the delayed return - I was in Europe, and had to take the long way home.”

Will squinted in recognition. “Hannibal.”


	2. Chapter 2

Will gestured to his pack to stay. "Show... show your hands." Words were surprisingly hard to form after months and months and months of silence. He rolled his tongue and chewed on it, as though trying to limber up the muscle.

Hannibal held up his gloved hands. His coats looked warm and well-made, if a little grimy. "I have two knives, one in my right sleeve and one in my right boot, as well as a machete on my back," said Hannibal. He was still fluent. Will supposed the older man had had the opportunity to interact with others. Not so rusty around interaction. 

"If you move before I say so, I will kill you," said Will. He could not remember the exact words for what he meant, but Hannibal understood, so that was good enough. Hannibal had always understood him like no one else, after all. "Come."

*****

The windows were boarded over so the room was dark. Upstairs had been converted to a storehouse for everything Will caught over the brief spring and summer the year before. 

There was a mattress on the floor, near the fireplace, piled high with thick blankets. The dogs all clambered on it onto their usual spots, leaving a large space for Will.

Will looked around, and pointed to the single chair he kept in here. "Sit." He had the fire going easily and the room warmed up soon enough for them to shed their outer coats.

Hannibal was leaner, but not in a way that suggested thinness. More like a predator. A wolf, perhaps. The pack and Will had faced down one last year. Its treated pelt was among the blankets on the bed.

"You drew on the walls," Hannibal remarked. "Quite lovely."

"Too white," said Will, looking at his hands. He put aside his Bowie knife and then jerked his chin at the man. "Put your w-weapons on the floor."

Hannibal obeyed. His motions were graceful, economical. Will thought about the talks they used to have in the office, a lifetime ago, and ached to find out if it still stood as it was, or if that elegant room had been ransacked. His memory preserved it as it had been. He could still see the Hannibal he had known and secretly ached for. He was seeing him now, superimposed over this bearded hunter.

He strode forward until he was about an inch from Hannibal, and waited until the older man looked up. Then Will placed his bare hands on the upturned face. Hannibal's skin was warm beneath his callused fingers. His beard tickled the center of Will's palms. Hannibal smiled and covered Will's hands with his own gloved ones, a cold shock.

Will's knees folded and he gasped, "Real. You're real."

*****

"Mushrooms with some venison, and chamomile from the summer last year." Will poured a mug of the hot tea and the two shared the plate of food. The dogs were chewing on their own share of jerky strips; there was a rack of elk ribs in the shed that Will had dragged into the house, with Hannibal's help, thawing in the now-useless kitchen. The dogs would have that for dinner and breakfast, because they would hunt in the morning again and needed the strength.

"You've done quite well here," said Hannibal. "Far better than many in the cities."

"Is it bad?" Will was frustrated that he had to sort through his mental lexicon for the vocabulary he needed for a simple conversation. This part of his brain had not been used for so long.

Hannibal nodded. He was eating with his fingers. Still neat and precise, but so unlike the Hannibal before. The end of the world eroded many of the trappings Will had encased himself in. Books became tinder material. Fishing was not just for leisure any more. He had even taken out the engine to his car, cleaned it out, and stored it carefully in the shed. He had known then he would not be using it. The laptop he had used for planning lessons became a library of survival skills, and he had studied everything until the information was etched in his mind. The electricity had lasted for six months, after all, and then he had used his generator for a while until he had the house set up to his and his pack's needs.

Now there was another in his territory.

Hannibal. Hannibal who was real and alive and  _here_ and a predator. Every line of him screamed it. Will should have seen it before, but back then Hannibal had his own trappings too.

Now this was the essence of the man before him.

"I was in Prague when the collision struck Russia. I heard it was Chernobyl," said Hannibal, wiping his fingers on his pants with a faint frown. "The looting and pillaging began nearly overnight. Everyone was fleeing south."

"You?"

"I went west. I knew there would be boats, still. Some way for me to come back here. But along the way there were difficulties." Hannibal did not elaborate. Will supposed it was fine. He had difficulties too, that first, frantic year when everything seemed impossible and inevitable. "But at least there was always food. Lots of meat. I kept seeds, too. When it grows warmer, we will plant them."

Will touched Hannibal's knee. "I ate people. The dogs, they brought me parts." He paused. "I ate the parts. And I fed the dogs my neighbors after there was no power."

A strange light came into Hannibal's eyes, and even through the thick beard, Will could see the man's smile. 

*****

They shared the bed. The dogs grumbled a little to have to make space for the newcomer, but Will physically entwined himself with Hannibal and made it clear that this was Not Food. Hannibal was very warm, however. Duke and Winston bracketed the two men and the others draped themselves all around them. The blankets and fleeces and the wolf pelt stunk of dog, but they kept them warm even as the fire began to die down.

Once the dogs settled down, Hannibal kissed Will. They both tasted of the ash they had used to clean their teeth with.

*****

When they woke up, the first thing Hannibal did was to pull the wolf pelt over himself. It was bitterly cold, even with the residual warmth of the fire the night before and the weatherproofing Will had done, as best as he could. Will mutely watched Hannibal walk about with the wolf pelt over his shoulders like he was a primordial god.

It suited him.

Hannibal stuck his machete in his belt and secured his two knives. Will offered him another one, a short hooked blade taken from a neighbor's collection. 

"The weather will start growing warmer in a few weeks, if my nose hasn't failed me," said Hannibal. "Shall we go south? We can begin preparations tonight."

Will did not hesitate. He took Hannibal's hand and pressed his mouth to the center of the palm. "Hunt. Then south."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((apologies: I accidentally clicked 'Post Chapter' the first time I tried to save this))


	3. Chapter 3

Hannibal fitted in the spaces around Will's life like he had always been there. He had watered the dogs, sharpened the blades, checked the store of firewood without being told that this was what Will did. All day long Hannibal had worn the wolf pelt over his shoulders, and when he had crouched, he looked like the animal itself, a pure predatory thing with nothing else on his mind.

"You didn't hesitate when I asked you to go south," Hannibal said afterwards while they feasted on the last of Will's canned peas. 

Will shrugged. The hunt had been meager. A thin, scrawny fox that had hardly any meat. Three fish in Will's traps. Two birds that weren't more than a mouthful after plucking the feathers. Hannibal had skinned the fox and the white pelt had been cleaned with ash and road salt.

"Bigger and more prey down south," said Will. He didn't add that it would be nothing more than a slow suicide to support two grown men and seven dogs where there were fewer and fewer animals every week.

Hannibal understood. "We'll encounter some along the way, I expect."

"Meat and pelt." Will scraped up the last pea. He paused and added, "There is a pickup. My neighbor's shed."

Hannibal hummed. "Does it still run?"

"Don't know." Will crunched and crunched on the bones of the tiny bird until he was sure he wouldn't choke when he swallowed. 

That night they went through what Will had in storage. Enough to get them four weeks, with intermittent hunting in between. Plenty in smoked meat and fish. Dried mushrooms and bags of smoke-dried wild greens. 

"We'll go till we have to stop," said Will.

"East to the Potomac, then downriver to the south." Hannibal smiled at Will. "The river will recover faster than the land, and we can fish daily."

A new place would mean new food sources, new dangers, new problems. New and different and with Hannibal.

*****

The pickup worked. They loaded it with the non-perishables first: jerry-cans of diesel that Will had obsessively stolen and stocked two years prior, waterproof tarps, bandages and spare clothes and coats. Then the canned food - not much left there - and the fishing gear.

The guns and knives stayed near them at all times. The scant ammunition and the rest of the food were packed into large bags and sat in the living room.

Hannibal and Will were waiting, and the dogs caught the sense of anticipation. Nightly the nine of them curled into a warm pile before the fireplace, each of them waking at their designated hour to listen to the wild winds howling outside the house.

*****

The winter snapped to spring overnight. Snow melt made the already terrible roads worse, but at least there was a road to drive on instead of snow to drive through.

When they could see the surface of the road, Will herded all the dogs onto the back of the pickup, and Hannibal loaded up the rest of the gear and food. The blankets, still smelling of wood smoke and dogs, were tossed into the back of the pickup.

Hannibal was in the driver's seat. He frowned at the steering wheel, as if remembering happier days with his Bentley, and then they were off. The dogs howled a farewell to their home.

Wearing the white fox pelt around his neck, Will reached over and took Hannibal's right hand.

*****

They slept in houses that had not been lived in for years as they traveled southeast. The animals which had survived the first extended winter around these places were less frightened of people. Short memories, perhaps. Or perhaps there had not been any human survivors this part of town. That made it a lot easier for Will and Hannibal.

The weather was erratic as ever, but the meager warmth held enough for them not to have to settle down until they got to the river, much further southeast than Will thought it would be. The apocalypse had ushered in ice, and much of the upper reaches of the Potomac had frozen over. As they neared the mouth of the river, however, the chill grew bearable even at night.

In the end, they could not find a working boat. Those who had them had already sailed south. There was one sturdy boat, but Will looked at the engine and understood that they would not head south this spring or summer. It would take too much energy to repair it, and their stores of diesel were low.

"We'll stay here," said Hannibal once Will explained tersely. "There's fish enough in the water, and prey enough in the woods."

*****

They found a solid brick cottage that was close to the river and was surrounded by trees, much like Wolf Trap. It even had its own well.

There was a man who lived there. He was big, not very old, and he looked strong.

Hannibal and Will watched him from the trees.

"Do you want this place?" Hannibal murmured.

Will nodded, and squeezed Hannibal's hand.

"We could shoot him."

"No. Not thieves." Will could feel his heart racing. "I want to hunt him. If he can escape us, we leave. Find someplace else."

Hannibal rubbed his thumb over Will's. "We shall hunt."

*****

Will kept himself downwind, crouched low, moving so slow as to seem stationary. His eyes were fixed on the prize. The dogs had spread out into a semicircle and they were all closing in. Hannibal was nowhere to be seen, but his presence could be felt nonetheless. Will could practically taste the other man's focus.

The wind changed. The sunlight shifted.

The man looked up, saw Will, and exploded into a run.

With a fey cry, Will and the dogs gave chase. The air burned cleanly into their lungs. The man tried to weave through the woods to lose the pursuit, but Will called Winston to dive to his left flank and Duke lunged simultaneously from its right. The man dodged and rolled forward, but entangled himself in the rope trap Hannibal had set up.

All seven dogs leaped on, sharp teeth sinking into the petrified man's flesh. Will grabbed hold of his long, matted hair, yanking his head back and fighting his struggles, when Hannibal materialized from the shadows of the trees. He bent his head and ripped out the man's throat with his teeth.

The man died with a gurgle. Hannibal cut him open and emptied his entrails for the dogs. Then he chopped off the corpse's head with the ax he had tucked into his belt.

"I can make dinner tonight," said Hannibal.

Will grinned. "Yes. In our new house."

Daubing the hot blood over Will's cheeks, Hannibal kissed him.

Will thought Hannibal tasted of life, and smiled into the kiss.


End file.
